


How Far That Little Candle Throws His Beams

by PhaedrusOfAthens



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Fluff, Historical Lams, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 08:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhaedrusOfAthens/pseuds/PhaedrusOfAthens
Summary: Alexander is working late into the night, but the candlelight is keeping John awake.





	How Far That Little Candle Throws His Beams

I owed Malachy Postlethwayte more than I cared to admit, so I felt it my duty to pour over his book trying to understand, once again, the political importance of the fluctuation of births and deaths in our new American population. Political arithmetic, after all, was the future. 

 

I could feel my eyes drooping as I sat reading at my desk. A single candle barely illuminated the page and the constant strain on my eyes was not helping, but I knew I wouldn’t have much time tomorrow. 

 

“Alexander,” Laurens whispered harshly from my bed. “You said you were coming to bed 20 minutes ago.”

 

“Just go to sleep,” I waved my hand at him trying to dismiss his worry. “I’ll be there before you know it.”

 

I heard him flop back down on the bed with a moan. The candle was keeping him awake. “I promise, just five more minutes,” I said pleadingly. 

 

“Fine,” He said shortly. 

 

I scoffed, but returned to my book. I swear I had just started reading when I heard Laurens say, “It’s been more than five minutes.”

 

“If you’re so tired,” I said annoyingly, “you could always sleep in your own bed away from the candlelight.” That was stupid. I didn’t want him sleeping in his own bed, I was just annoyed that I was being pushed to go to sleep when I didn’t want to.

 

“Do you really want me to do that?” he asked pointedly. I hated his challenge, but he was right.

 

“No,” I said after a pause. I felt my face flush from embarrassment. 

 

“Hm,” he hummed. “That’s what I thought.”

 

“I just need a little more time,” I whispered back, almost like a petulant child begging a parent to stay up. 

 

“You don’t need to ask my permission,” he said. “I just worry about you.” He threw a pencil that was sitting at my bedside table and it hit me directly in the side of the head. “I’m also just very  _ very _ tired and you’re keeping me awake,” he laughed breaking any tension I might have created. 

 

“I’m sorry,” I said in an weak attempt at penitence. “I swear, just five more minutes.” 

 

“Five more minutes,” he repeated.

 

I glanced back at the page, but I knew it was useless. Five more minutes wasn’t going to help me understand this any better. 

 

I quietly shut it with a soft  _ thud _ and gathered my things for the morning. After, divesting myself from my waistcoat, breeches, and stockings, I crept slowly and hopefully quietly towards the bed with the small beam of the candle lighting the way. Setting the candle on the bedside table, I lifted the blanket to try and snuggle in without disturbing the half-asleep man already occupying half of it. 

 

Laurens turned towards me so we were gazing at eachother on our shared pillow and ran his hand through my hair. My eyes fluttered shut and Laurens softly laughed beside me. “I knew you were tired,” he whispered. 

 

“You know me too well,” I replied sleepily. 

 

Laurens turned to lie on his back and gently moved me to rest my head on his chest. He kissed me through my mess of my hair and I couldn’t help but smile as I sleepily twirled my fingers on his chest. 

 

“Alex,” Laurens whispered through a snicker, “you forgot to blow out the candle.”


End file.
